


Made New Again

by Sarren



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Intimacy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-26
Updated: 2013-05-26
Packaged: 2017-12-13 01:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/818405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarren/pseuds/Sarren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something's missing from their relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Made New Again

**Author's Note:**

> Not S7 compliant.

Their phones were turned off. A whole weekend to themselves, and so far, most of it had been spent naked in bed. Lewis had no plans to go anywhere else, do anything else. James’ eyes were half-closed, his face blissful as they kissed lazily. James loved it when they could take their time, touch and stroke each other’s bodies for hours. Lewis did too. Everything they did together was wonderful.

Lewis’ hand slid across James’ bottom, not entirely accidentally. There was one last thing they hadn’t done, something Lewis couldn’t help wondering about, wondering if it would be as good as he imagined it would be. Now seemed like as good a time as any to bring it up. Daringly, he slid his fingers into James’s crease, rubbed them over his arsehole. James made an appreciative noise, but when Lewis tentatively pressed in, James shifted and sat up. He perched on Lewis’ thighs, looking at him quizzically.

“That’s new,” James said, but not as though he was enthused about it.

“Lot of people seem to like it—might be worth giving it a go?” Lewis suggested, and then had the completely mad realisation that he was now apparently somebody who was trying to talk his lover into anal sex. “No?”

“Never seen the appeal, myself.”

Lewis didn’t know what to say. He’d have bet money that of the two of them James would be the one who’d be the more adventurous. “Have you ever…?” he started, and then trailed off when James shook his head.

Lewis knew he should just let it go, but he’d been nerving himself for weeks to bring it up, and thinking about what it would be like for longer than that. James’ face, though, had acquired a pinched expression. “You’re really not keen, are you?” Lewis said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“Not really, sorry.”

“What about if you… do me?” Lewis asked, before his courage failed him. That was fair enough—after all, it wasn’t like he’d expected James to lie back and think of England without being prepared to reciprocate. He’d just expected to work up to it a bit.

He had James’ attention now. “You want to? Really?”

“There must be something to it or people wouldn’t keep on doing it.

“I’m not sure that’s a good enough reason.”

“It isn’t?”

James hesitated, as though trying to think of the right way to phrase what he wanted to say. “Well, it’s pretty… final,” he said at last.

“What do you mean, final? It’s not going to kill me.”

James looked torn. It was the expression he got when he was wrestling with a moral issue. Lewis stared at him disbelievingly. “You still believe it’s wrong,” he said flatly, hoping he’d misinterpreted the reason for James’ reluctance.

“That’s not what I said,” James said, and then shut his mouth, obviously not planning on elaborating.

“If you’re still hung up on the Church’s views on homosexuality, what exactly are we doing here?” Robbie said impatiently, and then could have kicked himself when James slid off him and sat huddled, arms wrapped around his drawn up knees.

There was a tense silence. Eventually James met his eyes. “I’m sorry, I don’t know if I can.”

James looked miserable. Lewis felt his own hurt draining away. What were they even arguing about? Their love life was wonderful the way it was. Why was Lewis even asking for more? “Ah, love, I’m sorry,” he said, sitting up himself. He reached out and covered James’ hand with his own. “It was just an idea. I didn’t mean to push you.”

James linked their fingers together. “I know,” he said.

James didn’t mention the subject again, and Lewis wasn’t game to. It wasn’t like it was important anyway. He didn’t know why he was still even thinking about it. It’s just… he missed the feeling of being so close to another person that you felt as if you were falling into each other. His libido had all but died along with Val for the longest time and he hadn’t cared, because he knew that he’d never feel that way with another person. He hadn’t believed it possible he’d fall in love again. And now there was James, who loved him impetuously. James was everything he couldn’t have imagined he’d want but was perfect for him anyway.

Their lovemaking was as satisfying as ever, depending on their moods: tender; passionate; sometimes a bit wild, even, in a way that made Lewis feel 20 years younger when James arched under him, desperate for him. And if, just occasionally, he felt like something was missing, well, that was down to him, wasn’t it? It was stupid to expect to be able to recreate that closeness he’d felt with Val. But he couldn’t help dwelling on it, though he was careful not to let on to James. It wasn’t fair to James—hell, it wasn’t fair to either of them. So he determined to put it out of his mind.

But still, just sometimes, when he was thrusting between James’ thighs, or James, his, or when James sat atop him, their cocks in his grasp, jerking them both off to completion with a faraway look on his face, he found himself wishing for more.

It was still early when Lewis woke, barely any light creeping through the blinds. James was wrapped around him like a giant hot water bottle, his cock firm and flush against Lewis’ backside, which was pretty much par for the course of a morning. Lewis remembered how it felt, always being ready to go. He missed it sometimes.

James’ arm was a heavy weight on his bladder. It wasn’t an issue at the moment but Lewis wasn’t taking any chances. He took hold of James’ forearm and shifted it up a bit. James snuffled into Lewis’ neck and his arms tightened, his body curling impossibly closer against Lewis’.

“An octopus’s got nothing on you, mate,” Lewis grumbled affectionately.

James mumbled something and stretched, leaning away as if he were about to turn over.

“I didn’t say to move,” Lewis said, and tightened his hold on the arm across his belly.

“Mmm?” James said, as though he were thinking about waking up. His hand, splayed on Lewis’ belly, slid slowly downward and closed lightly around Lewis’ cock, a possessive gesture that wasn’t lost on Lewis, and which sent a shivery heat along his skin. It was early yet, and it was long past the time when Lewis was easily aroused first thing in the morning, so he closed his eyes to go back to sleep. But really, he should have known by now that wasn’t going to be happening because James was nuzzling his ear, his hand was pulling on Lewis’ cock, gently at first, then with more purpose as Lewis obligingly stiffened.

Lewis loved it like this, all loving touches and dreamlike sensation, James’ cock leisurely sliding between his buttocks as he played with Lewis’, when they had all the time in the world. He wasn’t thinking of anything but the sensation of James moving against him, James holding him, James kissing his neck, so when James said something, Lewis didn’t really register it.

“Hmm, love?”

“Do you still want to?” James said, and his voice was hushed, as though he was afraid of breaking some spell.

“Want to?”

“You know, try it?”

“It?” Lewis asked, trying to focus on James, because he realised that he was missing something important.

“Fucking,” James said, suddenly, bluntly.

Oh.

“Yes,” he said, and his pulse was suddenly jumping; he wasn’t sure how much was pure adrenalin and how much was nerves.

“I’ve done a bit of reading up on it.”

Lewis didn’t doubt it. “I trust you.”

James pulled away, and the sudden draught against his back made Lewis shiver. He felt exposed, unexpectedly vulnerable, and he had to swallow an urge to tell James he’d changed his mind after all. James was warm against his back again; James’ hand was against his thigh, urging. Lewis slid his leg forward, heart thumping as James’ fingers returned, slick now, touching him, pressing gently, circling, pressing again, and it felt… it felt….

Lewis had had no idea that his body was capable of this shivery, electric sensation, and it seemed like something he shouldn’t have had to wait 57 years to experience. He murmured something to that effect and there was a huff of amusement against his neck. The sensation changed, pressure increasing and god, James was penetrating him with his finger. It was easier than he’d expected, slicker. It was fine, he’d expected it to hurt more—it was really just the oddness of it. Then the sensation was gone. James was shifting again and the pressure was back, more slickness in his bum, more of stretch. James must have added another finger. Then it was gone, leaving him feeling oddly empty… then, oh, huh, pressure again, and that definitely wasn’t fingers.

Lewis took a deep, shaky breath, because this was it. He’d asked for this. “Okay?” James murmured breathlessly, and Lewis could feel the fine tremble in his limbs as he held himself still, poised. Lewis knew exactly what he was feeling, that incredible urge to push, to sink yourself into your lover, knew exactly the restraint James was exercising right now. His heart swelled with love for James. Lewis knew that if he changed his mind right now—if he said no—James would stop immediately and would never hold it against him. But Lewis didn’t want to stop. They were so close. James would take care of him, make it as easy as possible.

“Go on,” he said, and James arm tightened around him for a moment and then he was pushing in. Lewis’ body was breached and god, it felt exactly like that, and it bloody well hurt. He tensed despite his best intentions and James froze instantly, breathing heavily against Lewis’ neck.

James started to pull away. “No,” Lewis said, and reached back to clasp James’ thigh, holding him there. Lewis took deep, deliberate breaths until the urge to expel James from his body faded. After a minute or two the pain eased. Lewis took a deep breath and pulled at James’ thigh, urging him closer, urging him to keep on.

“Robbie?”

“Keep going,” he insisted, and James kissed his neck and pushed. He took it slowly—easing back, pushing in again. Lewis took deep breaths in time with his movements. It helped. It still hurt, but his body was giving in, giving way, and it wasn’t too bad. He could do this.

James’ arm tightened around him. James was flush against him now, panting, but holding himself ever so still. This was it. This was what Lewis had wanted; they couldn’t get any closer than this. It was fine, it didn’t hurt anymore. It felt good to be able to give this to James. James’ hand was moving on his cock again and that felt good too.

“Alright?” asked James, and Lewis loved him all the more for his concern, even now.

“Fine.”

James’ hand stilled. “Not a ringing endorsement.”

“Love, it’s fine. Keep going.”

There was a long pause. Lewis really hoped James wasn’t going to overthink this. He wanted James to just go with it, enjoy himself.

“Hang on,” James mumbled, and pulled out, ignoring Lewis’ protest. Then a pillow appeared in front of his groin, and James’ hand on his hip was urging him to move. Lewis rolled onto his stomach, squirming further down into the pillow to get comfortable. His cock was pushing into the pillow and he tried not to feel self-conscious about the way his bum was sticking up now. James was behind him, between his legs. James’ hands were on his cheeks, they were being gently pulled apart and Lewis shivered, half with embarrassment, half with a kind of guilty thrill at being exposed this way. Heart pounding, he waited for that blunt pressure again.

There was a sudden, shocking, wet stripe across his arsehole. Lewis swore at the jolt of sensation, and Christ, that was James’ tongue, licking at him, echoing the circling movements of his fingers from earlier. Lewis was riveted. That electric sensation was back but, impossibly, even more intense. He had the fleeting thought that the building could fall down around them right now and he wouldn’t care. Lewis pushed his face into the pillow to muffle the embarrassing sounds he knew he was making. Then the sensation was gone and Lewis had to bite his tongue to stop himself from begging James not to stop, to keep doing that, because, _god_ , he’d had no idea.

James’ hands were at his hips and the pressure was back, but it was easier now. Lewis thought, with some relief, that he could get used to this. The sensation of James surrounding him, inside and out— this was what he’d been missing—this feeling of being united, one person. James pulled almost out again and Lewis wondered, _what now?_ James shifted slightly, and pushed back in and… _Jesus Christ Almighty._

There was a huff of cool air against his overheated neck. “That would be your prostate,” James murmured, sounding amused.

“No kidding,” Lewis gasped.

“Should I keep going?” James asked, the bastard.

“If you stop, I may have to kill you. Justifiable homicide, it’d be.”

He heard James laugh again, and then James was taking him at his word. He was thrusting into Lewis and now it felt good, that sharp, shivery sensation making him gasp whenever James chanced to brush his prostate. Lewis was feeling no pain, afloat on a wash of sensation, his cock rubbing against the pillow every time James thrust into him, and he was in no hurry at all, James could keep doing this for as long as he liked.

It took him a few moments to register that James’ hands were at his hips now. Lewis forced himself to focus, because James was saying something. He realised that James was tugging at his hips, and with a groan of complaint, he got his knees under him and let James position him however he liked, bum stuck up in the air. He’d barely got himself comfortable, forehead on his crossed arms when James took hold of him firmly and plunged into him again.

All James’ finesse was gone now. James was fucking him hard. Lewis thought briefly that he was going to be sore later, but he couldn’t regret it, because James’ urgency was catching. James was stimulating that damn spot nearly every thrust now. Lewis was burning up. He was desperate to finish himself off, but when he tried to lift his arm James slammed into him again. He had to brace himself with both arms. He thought he might have made some sound of desperate noise, said something, because James’ hand closed around his cock. It only took a couple of pulls and Lewis was coming, gasping with the strength of his orgasm. He was just coming down from that when James’ thrusts changed rhythm, becoming uneven, and then James cried out something that might have been Lewis’ name and collapsed against him, shuddering.

“What changed your mind?” Lewis said, after they’d showered and got ready for work and were sitting down to breakfast.

“Well, you know what they say,” James smirked, as he poured milk over his muesli. “It doesn't matter what you do in the bedroom as long as you don't do it in the street and frighten the horses.”

Lewis smiled. “Wouldn’t want to frighten the horses,” he agreed.

“Their sensibilities are very delicate.”

“Seriously though?”

James picked up his spoon and then put it down again and looked at Lewis. “It was never about religion. I’d worked through all that ages ago. It’s just––I already love you so much. I was afraid if we made that final commitment, that I may lose myself.”

Lewis was almost afraid to ask. “So, what made you decide to take the risk?”

James appeared to brace himself. He met Lewis’ eyes and there was fear in his, and determination. “I realised it was already too late.”

Lewis stared at him, overwhelmed. How could he have been so blind to what he had? This had never been about sex at all. He’d thought he was ready to move on. He’d thought he could love James fully, the way James had always loved him, but he’d still been stuck in the past, hadn’t he? Making comparisons. And that wasn’t fair to James, and it wasn’t fair to him. What they had wasn’t less than what he’d had with Val. It was simply different, and he was just sorry he’d taken so long to realise it.

Lewis reached across the table and took James’ hand. “You won’t have cause to regret it,” he vowed.

“I know,” James said, returning his clasp. “I have faith.”

**Author's Note:**

> I figured a shameless PWP needs a posh title, so it’s from Ursula K. Le Guin. "Love doesn't sit there like a stone, it has to be made, like bread; remade all of the time, made new."
> 
> Everyone knows the quote about not frightening the horses, right? It was attributed to Mrs Patrick Campbell, about Oscar Wilde. It was actually reading Valmouth's adorable fic 'Happiness' the other day and seeing this quote that reminded me that I had this fic lying around on my hard drive, so thanks to that writer, and sorry I guess, but I couldn't really change it.


End file.
